Blood and Thunder
The Grail Dialogue Ymir Setting Music It is a clear, balmy day in the port town of Ymir. Ymir is a bustling trade center nestled on the Western shore of Fiore, with hundreds of caravels and sailing ships docked or cutting lines across the choppy waters of Horn Sound. Thousands of people call it home, but for thousands more, this community is just a pit stop on their voyages to greater and more exotic locales. A plethora of travelers pass through the gates of the harbor on a daily basis, bringing with them food, language, culture... and information. Finding the information you want is the real trick, of course. Arthur sifts through the various shopping bags and boxes errantly, before giving up and heaping the contents in a pile. A vast assortment of junk litters the grass in front of him. Antique goblets, ornate teacups... a gravy tourine. Everything BUT a magical artifact of immeasurable worth. "Rubbish. Utter tripe." The young king leans back against the trunk of the willow, breaths a sigh of resignation, and slowly stands. Brushing himself off, the exasperated royal resolves to abandon his search for the grail for the day. "This place has no leads... just alot of peddlers and conmen. Gods, I need a drink." Arthur walks the streets in pursuit of a tavern, and in short order discovers a decent-enough looking establishment. Glancing up at the sign, Arthur quizzically remarks, "The.. Snake's Claw? Weird name." Shrugging his shoulders passively, the King enters the building. The Snake's Claw Theme Music The Snake's Claw is renowned for only two things; the cheap quality of its booze, and the fine quality of the women serving it. The tavern was originally a brothel and catered to the upper class of the city, before previous owner was ousted for blackmailing and embezzling millions. The new owner, a stern and practical business woman Ameila Maverick has refashioned the place; kept the women, added the drinks, and opened up room and board for weary travelers. Business has been booming ever since. Seated in every chair at every table is a patron laughing and hooting to the wenches serving their drinks. The thick musky of sweaty men, and sex fill the air while with the lustful dreams of men is almost palpable. At the center of this attraction is the largest group of women in the entire bar, all surrounding one man. He is like perfection in physical form possessing a devilishly handsome physique with hair that shines like gold, and ruby red eyes lit with pride and lust. There is a woman literally hanging off of every part of his body; two on either side of his head, whispering words of lust into his ears, another two sitting on each knee lavishly running dainty hands across muscled chest, more held between broad shoulders and lean arms cooing and ahhing as he regales them with fanciful stories of kingdoms conquered and dungeons scoured. Like a king, he sits upon his throne of booze and women soaking in the praise heaped on him. He smirks proudly before announcing for a round of drinks all around. The noise becomes deafening as patrons roar with cheers. Arthur finds himself beginning to admire the cheerful women surrounding the stranger, but quickly checks himself as images of his furiously jealous wife creep into his thoughts. To a casual observer Arthur is just another swordsman, a wandering mercenary, but the craftsmanship of his armor is a dead giveaway to the keenly observant; this man is loaded. Young lords are a dime a dozen to Nero, of course... but the unusual blade on Arthur's back catches the killer's eye. As he spares a sideways glance, he notices shifting inscriptions across the surface of the sword. What remarkable craftsmanship. To think that a lowly noble could bring his king such a fine treasure. I must have it!, he thinks intently. Arthur seats himself at a stool near Nero and orders a chilled apple rum. When he gets the beverage, he slowly sips it, savoring the cool, tart flavor. Arthur's smile of pleasure becomes slightly downcast as he takes a closer look at the cup; its a golden-hued goblet. With a sigh, he retrieves Excalibur from his back to examine its surface. It appears serviceable, but a detailed examination reveals numerous cracks and blunts forming on the surface and blade edges. "Albion...", he whispers somberly. The sweet aroma of cinnamon mingled with the faint scent of a woman in heat envelopes him. A pair of arms ensnare him from either side, glancing up he takes notice of two beautiful women- twins by the look of it. Long black wavy hair, almond eyes, delicious ruby lips and skin whose touch is like velvet gaze at him with what could only be describe as barely restrained lust. Coy smiles mirror their faces. "Ladies," the smooth and eloquent voice of the self-styled "king" breaks Arthur away from the moment of fantasy. "why not show our esteemed guest why such a forlorn expression is forbidden in my kingdom." Across the tavern seated in his makeshift thrown of woman and fine alcohol the "king" gestures to the assortment of drinks scattered around his table. "Come," The word was spoken less like a suggestion and more of a command. "sit, join me and bare your troubles. I would be quite interested to hear what could bring fine warrior like yourself such despair." He laughs, rich and heartily as a king would. "Where are my manners?" He says ruefully. "My name is Nero Fenrirs." A seat is extended out for Arthur to sit in and the two woman at his side eagerly await his response. As Arthur is pulled (not entirely unwillingly) by a woman on each arm towards the table, he takes a long look at the stranger. The first thing that sticks out to him are Nero's eyes. Red, and slitted like a cat's... or a dragon's. His clothes, few as they are, are made of the finest silks; his toned chest is bare. Gold plated armor covers his lower torso and leggings. A warrior at first glance, but oddly the figure carries no weapon. Nero waves Arthur forward lazily as he reclines in his chair. "Greetings, Nero, King of the Snake's Claw. I am Arthur Pendragon, of the nation of Albion. I beg your forgiveness for my rudeness. As one King venturing into the domain of another, I should have introduced myself first." Arthur gladly takes a cup of fine red wine, his apple rum forgotten on the counter, and sits. "My troubles... they are many. My land is threatened by a foul evil of vast power, and I seek a relic that can purge the land of its shadow... but none here seem to know of the Grail. My journey and search so far has been fruitless." Arthur plucks a strawberry from the untouched pile of fruit on the center of the table and takes a bite. A waitress serves yet another round of fresh wine, followed by a delicious platter of various foods, most of them rare but highly delectable meats. The fruit remains untouched, though the various woman who hover possessively around Nero take nibbles now and then. One of the woman cuts the food and begins to feed Nero generously as he appears lost in thought. "The Grail you say?" He says looking to Arthur for confirmation. "I am," He pauses for dramatic effect. "a collector of rare treasures." Seeing the intensity of Arthur's expression he continues, a knowing smile on his face. "Over the years, I have acquired countless artifacts of different make and design, some magical some not. This Grail you speak of, is one such treasure I may have in my possession." Arthur's eyes widen is surprise, and in an instant, he's clasping Nero's hands in his own. "Oh thank you, gracious sir! I, no, the entire nation of Albion, is in your debt. The grail will save my country and banish the black dragon from our lands!" Nero withdraws his hands from Arthur's grip with a distasteful look, and one of the barmaids around him produces a towel and hot water to wash them. "You are mistaken. I am a generous man, but I am not simply going to give the grail to you... It can, however, be won." As he speaks, he takes hold of a carving knife in one hand, and begins sawing off liberal slices of haunch from the roast pig before him. "Eat, or be eaten. This is the law of nature, and this law supercedes the laws of man. I too, am seeking a relic." With a flick of his red eyes, his gaze shifts to Exalibur. "That blade upon your back would find a good home in my collection." Arthur is shocked by the suggestion, and immediately blurts out, "Out of the question! I won't exchange Excalibur for some magical cup. I have no guarentees it is truly the grail I seek..." Nero shakes his head and waves his hand to dispel the indignation, "No no. I am not trading for anything. Rather, I propose a contest." Leaning to the side one of the woman bends over, giving Arthur a generous look at her... assets, whilst Nero whispers into her ear. Nodding, the woman leaves along with several others. Lazily he returns his attentions towards Arthur once more. "The rules are simple. We will have drink, which is to be refilled as soon as the other finishes." Moments later the women return carrying trays of assorted beverages, with two large pitchers graciously given to them both. "We will continue until only one of us remains standing." Not that its possible for alcohol to affect me, I've already won this little contest, and I'll take what is rightfully mine. "To the victor" He eyes Excalibur with hungry interest. "goes the spoils. Do you agree to the terms, Arthur King of Albion?" Arthur considers the risks for a moment, Well, I've got nothing to lose. Even if I lose the contest, he can't truly keep Excalibur- the blade is unmovable except by my hand. Oh, what the hell, this is probably the best chance I'll have at finding the grail. "Very well, Nero. I accept your terms." Arthur places Excalibur onto the table in front of him, grabs hold of a flaggon, and downs it in one long gulp. Nero chuckles at the King Arthur's enthusiasm. "Your spirit is admirable Arthur, but the game has only begun." Taking his own flaggon, Nero consumes the drink in several long gulps, savoring its flavor. He stares expectantly at Arthur as both of their flaggons are refilled. Indeed the game is just beginning! The roar of cheers is deafening, resounding in booming applause. The boisterous howling of drunken patrons fills the air as the King's continue their game. Dancing women squeal and laugh while booze shifts from hand to hand. The thunder of cups slamming, signals the contest anew! Hours pass, the Kings still drink, the audience watches entrapped. Who will win this game, they ask, many a bet is placed. But King Nero smirks knowing as King Arthur can no longer keep up the pace. "Come now King Arthur of Albion, does your stomach not match your conviction?" He asks, finishing yet another drink. Neither sweat, nor stench is on him despite the booze he's consumed tonight. The crowd behind Nero erupts with laughter, mocking the noble king. Barely conscious and slurring his words, for Arthur the game may very well be over. Arthur extends right arm and attempts to grab one of the two flaggons in front of him, but his hand passes through empty air. With his left hand, he grabs hold of the arm and corrects its aim, and this time he actually manages to take hold of the real drink and not one of its alcohal-induced imaginary duplicates. The flaggon feels as though it weighs a hundred pounds, and Arthur's eyelids begin to droop. At just that moment, a crash of noise originates from the entry door of the Snake's Claw. A group of about a dozen heavily muscled and heavily armed men enter the tavern. At their lead is a tall dark man covered in scars and knives, a whip at his side. His deep, bellowing voice issues a single command. "OUT!" The patrons stare in shock and fear for a single second, before they start evacuating out of the tavern behind the dangerous looking men. Scarface walks forward towards the single occupied table in the now-empty tavern. Nero, as proud as he is, has not deigned to acknowledge the demand. Arthur is simply too inebriated to register that any words were spoken at all. The leader of the gang approaches the table with slow, deliberate steps. His face is expressionless, but his body seems to radiate fury. He stops next to the table, standing over the two. His face cracks a smile, and he takes hold of one of the flaggons on the table, and takes a deep drink, before kicking it over. Wine, broken dishes, and food scatter across the floor, ruining the game. Oddly, the sword that was sitting on the table has not moved, and appears to be hovering by itself in the air motionlessly. Scarface places one leg up on the overturned table, leans on it, and bends over to see Nero at eye level. He takes another drink from the wine, and tries to grab Nero by the neck and lift him up. Nero's weight, however, throws him off, and he ends up pulling himself forward instead. An expression of confusion flashes across his face. Touching Nero was the last mistake he will ever make. Category:Storyline Category:Chrono Nexus Category:Illuminate Void